The Cinderella Complex
by BigMamaG
Summary: When Hogwarts holds its first-ever Masquerade Ball, Draco Malfoy concocts a plan to seduce Harry Potter: By turning into someone else. Black market Polyjuice Potions, enchanted mood rings, and unrequited love all come together in this re-telling of the po


The Cinderella Complex  
  
Once upon a time in a castle far, far away lived a boy who salivated in class..  
  
Powerful arms were stirring a potion clockwise, slowing with the prolonged effort. The neck flexed imperceptibly, some secret amusement bubbling to the surface. A chanced look at that face, a bead of sweat drips down a cheek.Eyes snap back to his own potion, striving to ignore his inner urges. A few guilty moments later, his eyes betrayed the mind, sliding back on the curve of hips, shifting uncomfortably in their seat. Yellow smoke billows over the brim of a cauldron, highlighting the frame of a face, resembling a golden statue that preserves the eternal beauty of a majestic god for which time could not perish or erode.a curt voice jerked Draco back to the present.  
  
"Yes Professor Snape?" Draco asked stupidly, his eyes clapped on his Potions professor.  
  
".Mr. Malfoy, your potion is spilling into your lap." Professor Snape grunted, pointing unceremoniously to Draco's lap. Yellow potion had indeed bubbled over his cauldron, steadily building up in his lap. Draco cursed and immediately started to sop up the potion. Luckily, he had not added the Murtwood yet, as it would have expanded parts of his lap to almost five times their normal size. Sure, it might have inflated his ego, but the attention it would have stirred would beg the question, 'what made Draco Malfoy not pay attention in his favorite class?'. Through years of experience he concluded that it was best to completely avoid incriminating questions such as these. After cleaning the mess, Draco added the final ingredient and began to stir counter-clockwise. A few more minutes and his induction serum would be completed, ending another day in potions.  
  
Draco sighed, the weight of old misery pressing down on his chest. His daily routine of hating Harry Potter while secretly loving him made Draco weary with exhaustion. For the last seven years of his life, Draco Malfoy had fooled everyone into thinking he loathed Harry Potter more than Crabbe and Goyle hated fasting. As he stirred his cauldron, Draco began to drift into his own jumbled thoughts.  
  
He had tried numerous times to figure out the specific moment that he fell for Harry, but it was less of a fall than a growing realization. After all, no one knows what real love is at age 11. No, all Draco knew was that he always thought about Harry and felt things more powerfully with him. By his second year, things slowly made more sense. Quidditch, house rivalries, and informative upperclassmen helped Draco realize that he had a major crush. It was almost a fun year, possessing such an insane secret. It was all harmless, really. Infamous duels, ludicrous valentines, blaming things on Potter.But the fun faded as his crush deepened. He termed it a schoolboy crush at first, giggles and all, but then he began to realize that he truly cared for Harry. It was one thing to think Harry's ass was hot; it was quite another to wonder whether or not Harry is safe in bed or out on one of his ridiculous night quests. By the beginning of his third year, Draco's crush had become something he could not name. His next idea was that it was an obsession. He remembered when Buckbeak had sliced his arm and the weeks that followed, pretending that he was wounded to hardly any effect. All as an excuse to sit next to Harry in Potions. Once again he grew comfortable in this assessment of his feelings, waiting patiently for the time when these obsessive urgings would cease. The end never came. During his fourth and fifth year, Draco became depressed and fell into denial. Those two years were so awful that he summed them up as the Dark Years. It was only at the end of last year that he figured out that his feelings were love. As the current year marched on, Draco grew used to this way of explaining things and could now say (to himself, that is) that he was in love with Harry Potter.  
  
As each year passed, Draco began to grow proud of his ability to hide the biggest secret Hogwarts had ever seen. Their hatred was epic, and so was his denial. There had been only two times over the last few years when people had come very close to discovering his secret. There was that one time in fourth year when Draco had caught Blaise Zabini rummaging under his bed, trying to find his ear plugs (a crucial necessity for sleeping through Crabbe and Goyle's snoring). Blaise had come across an ornate box full of Harry artifacts and Draco had hurriedly told Blaise that the box was full of Bubotuber Pus for his Herbology test. The other time he occurred during the summer after his fifth year when his father was in Azkaban for a month. Draco had grown bolder in his father's absence, leaving several personal items in plain view. He had an awkward conversation with his mother when a house elf found a picture of Harry Potter lying on his bed (he had nicked the picture from a trash can after Colin Creevy was sorting through his Gryffindor photo album. The picture was usually kept in a locked box among other priceless artifacts). He smiled, remembering telling his mother that the informative house elf was Dobby's friend and that the house elf must have put the picture there to intimidate him. His mother, remembering their former erstwhile house elf, had grimaced and had promptly given the house elf clothes that day. His mother had then thrown the picture in the fire and Draco had burned his hand to retrieve it as she swept from the room. The Harry in the picture had fled from the flames and returned a week later, bandages covering where he was burnt. Thinking this, Draco looked over at the real Harry once more. Harry was currently laughing with Ron and gesturing toward his own lap, smirking superiorly in Draco's direction. Draco scowled, locking his eyes on his potion.  
  
Today had been a day straight from the sauna of hell.  
  
He had woken up that morning to find Crabbe and Goyle kicking each other's shins on the edge of his bed, loyally waiting to accompany Draco to the Great Hall. After entering the Great Hall and having his usual glance at the Gryffindor table, he noted the ongoing storm outside that had drenched the castle with torrents of rain throughout the week. Crabbe and Goyle had sat on either side of him like a human vise, squeezing him between them until he thought he would pass out from oxygen deprivation. Potions was usually a treat for Draco, no matter how he woke up. Crabbe and Goyle were too dim to be in Advanced Potions, so he mercifully had an hour and a half to study Harry from a perfect vantage point. Being Professor Snape's favorite student, Draco got to sit in the back of the room at an elevated seat where he could scan the room as everyone worked. Today, however, Seamus Finnigan had broken his desk after Draco had tripped him, trying to get in one confrontation with Harry before class began. Harry, however, was late, missing the intended confrontation and Draco had to sit in a different seat on Snape's orders, making it difficult for him to see Harry properly. Class was almost over and lunch was next. After that he would go into an old classroom for Charms instead of the flooded area by Hagrid's cabin. Perhaps the day was not lost; he could still ridicule and provoke a delicious response from Harry. There might even be a fistfight, which was distinctly better than a duel, given that brawling required bodily contact.  
  
Draco was happy to see the end of class. He bottled his finished potion, labeling it and taking it to Professor Snape's desk. He smiled nastily as he heard Professor Snape berate Harry for his potion, which was a lighter shade of red than it was supposed to be. He caught Harry's eye before he walked away, smirking malevolently. Harry scowled, returning his glare and walking from the room in a huff. Draco kept the same expression of dislike on his face until he arrived in the boy's dormitory. He shared a dormitory with only Crabbe and Goyle this year (Blaise Zabini and Terrance Higgs had left to join their fathers as Death Eaters). Crabbe and Goyle had stayed behind to finish Draco's year, even though they themselves always received bottom marks and were in the lowest classes. Draco found Crabbe and Goyle to be incredibly stupid and slow, but respected them for their unwavering loyalty and their total disinterest in what Draco did during his lunch hour, so long as it didn't interfere with their food consumption. Draco never ate lunch, thus almost every day at this time was deemed 'Harry time'. An hour devoted to his supreme obsession.  
  
The boy spent his days locked in his bedroom, obsessing over his one true love.  
  
Draco locked the door out of pure habit, laying down on his bed. He then rolled over the side of the bed, ducking his head under the hangings to find his box. It sat under the headboard like usual, and Draco picked it up, muttering the opening charm ("Show me the one I love") and smiled when the box opened to reveal his organized collection of Harry trinkets. The box had a charm on it that made it bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. Draco lovingly began pulling items from one side of the box, running his hands reverently over his favorites. At the top of the pile were various things that Harry had used, including candy wrappers, used quills, a piece from his Nimbus 2000, a twig from his Firebolt stolen in third year when he grabbed the tail of Harry's broom, and a bag of black hair that Draco had collected over the years.  
  
Toward the bottom of the pile were things he had found around his home after he started attending Hogwarts that were related to Harry. He smiled as he picked up his very own Harry Baby, a doll that had a squashed face, black yarn for hair, and a stitched lightening bolt scar. It once belonged to Pansy Parkinson, who had lost it in the manor when she had visited for Draco's sixth birthday party. Underneath this was a book he had read hundreds of times when he younger and older. It was called 'Marlin Rosewood's Tales of Many Lands'. He opened the large, leather- bound book to page 238, the story of Harry Potter. Draco smiled, running his hands over a picture of Harry as a baby, defeating Lord Voldemort. He flipped through several pages, and looked at a picture of the fictional Harry Potter running a sword through a Chinese Fireball while a crowd of onlookers cheered. He flipped a few more pages, eyeing the picture of an adult Harry facing Voldemort in the ice castle of Philleans, using his wand to merge Voldemort into a parallel universe while he saved the beautiful Princess Albania from imminent death. Draco smiled, remembering all the times he and his playmates had lived out the tale.  
  
He set these items aside, moving on to his article collection. He had collected every article or story that had appeared in the Daily Prophet, Teen Witch Weekly and the Quibbler since his first year. His favorite articles were magically highlighted in Read-Back ink that read the article aloud whenever he pointed to the highlighted portion. He guiltily forced himself to return a battered copy of Teen Witch Weekly that had an in-depth article on Harry Potter's love life. It was his favorite article, in that Harry mentioned his name during it. Of course, it was an offhand comment ("It was like Draco Malfoy had a sister, she was a horrible person."), but his happiness overlooked that detail.  
  
Next to his article collection was his miscellaneous collection of poems, thoughts, and other various things he had written himself. Draco set his trusty Quick-Quotes Quill aside, planning to write more to a sonnet he was composing. The slightly charred photo of Harry smiled engagingly at Draco from beneath a singe mark and then began to wave enthusiastically up at him. Draco smiled, placing the photo on the pillow beside him. He gazed down at all his Harry belongings, a feeling of peace overcoming him.  
  
Then came his final ritual. He picked up his wand and rapped his left ring finger with it. A small, extravagant ring appeared there, its glass surface gleaming at him, the Disillusionment Charm lifted. Draco leaned back amidst his trappings, examining his ring. He had been given the ring by his Uncle Hector after he had been accepted at Hogwarts. There had been a lavish party to congratulate his acceptance at Hogwarts, and Draco remembered being pulled beside by his Uncle and been shown the ring. "It is over five hundred years old, Draco," Hector had told him, gripping him by the shoulder, "It is a unique ring. If someone else tries to put the ring on while you are living, it won't stay on. It's an ancient talisman that can be used for any sort of linking spell. You can link someone's thoughts, feelings, or even actions into this little piece of jewelry. Just obtain a personal item from them, use it in a potion of your choice, and dip the ring in. But be careful, Draco. The person who you link can also bear the ring. Don't leave it laying around." Ever the Slytherin, Draco had listened to his Uncle with rapt attention, his ignorant mind ticking over possible uses of this trinket. He never found a use, however, until he met Harry Potter. At the end of his first year, when Harry had defeated his Voldemort-possessed teacher, Draco had snuck into the hospital wing while Harry was sleeping and managed to procure a very personal item from Harry: His blood. Deciding what to do with the spot of blood had been a very involved decision. He had scoured the library for days on different potions before finally deciding on one he was most interested in. Termed the "Mood Enlightening" potion, Draco could know what Harry was feeling at that exact moment. With the ring now present, Draco brought it up to his face to study it.  
  
The ring turned various colors depending on Harry's mood. There was all sorts of hues that Draco still could not entirely pick out, but the basic colors were easy enough to understand. There was the basic happy and sad which were white and blue, respectively. Then love, which was supposed to be red but was never really prominent, then anger in black. Yellow and orange were the easiest to confuse on account of their similarity in hue, and the irony was that yellow meant confusion. Orange was more difficult to figure out. He assumed it had something to do with energy and the physical body feeling heightened. During Gryffindor quidditch practices this color showed easily and there was a rather heated late night when the ring practically glowed orange, causing Draco to swiftly Disillusion the ring and take a freezing shower. He could easily acquaint brown with history, as it was boredom and sleepiness. Green was always a bad color and Draco almost always knew when Harry was in the hospital wing on account of it. The ring could even be devoid of color, which meant that Harry was feeling nothing and was therefore either asleep or unconscious. The glass surface now showed a combination of brown and white. Tired but happy, Draco thought. Draco let his hand fall back to the bed, curling into a ball. Why should Harry be happy when he was so miserable? Draco closed and then opened his eyes, staring at the picture of Harry next to his head. Harry had turned sympathetic, looking at Draco with a slight frown. Draco figured the picture would have gotten used to this sort of thing, but then he reminded himself that he was talking about a picture.  
  
Draco couldn't recall the last time he had eaten lunch in the Great Hall. His body showed this, his ribs showing a bit through his flat stomach. The Harry Potter Weight-Loss Program, he thought bitterly to himself. He had never been a healthy child in the first place, so his health never concerned him. Of course, in third year when that horrible Hippogriff slashed his arm, he had been a bit concerned for his health. He had bled entirely too much and had to keep the bandages on longer than most others had to. Draco sighed, wondering when class would start. The floating clock by his bed said he had less than ten minutes. With another long-suffering sigh, Draco gathered everything carefully together, putting it all back in the box. He slid the box under his bed and rapped his ring once, hiding it once more.  
  
The boy pretended that he despised the other boy so that the boy never could guess his secret.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle immediately flanked him outside the common room as he headed towards Charms. The classroom they were using was old and dusty and smelled of a ripe vegetable garden. Hagrid's size was even more prominent indoors as he stood in the middle of the room, his great head brushing the ceiling. Draco stood with his group of Slytherins, scanning the room for Harry. His ears perked up when Harry's name was mentioned.  
  
"Yeah, Potter and that Mudblood are probably dating. I reckon we should hex her and see what Potter does," Pansy declared, her obnoxious voice reverberating throughout the room. Draco knew this was completely not true. He had seen his ring when Harry was around her and it had never turned a red or a pink. He played along anyhow, confident in this matter.  
  
"I have the perfect plan," Draco announced silkily, catching the entire group's attention. Pansy turned her face toward him, positively beaming with delight. She always fancied herself a cut above all the other girls since she was the one who always gave fuel to Draco's malice. Draco took her suggestions, though not because he thought they were actually beneficial; it simply confirmed everyone's belief that they were the king and queen of Slytherin, that one couldn't get along without the other. Draco knew it was wrong to play with Pansy like this, but he was a Slytherin at heart and had secretly loathed Pansy since they were children.  
  
"What is it Draco?" Pansy breathed, a flash of wicked excitement shining in her eyes. Draco smirked, regarding Pansy through a fall of silvery-blonde hair (he had stopped cutting and styling it this year.He had heard that Harry preferred long, silky hair he could run his fingers through).  
  
"Now, if I told you, what fun would that be?" Pansy giggled flirtatiously, tossing her hair in what she thought be would an alluring manner. Draco's attention was now on the door to the classroom as the Gryffindor trio made their way into the room, walking straight to and chatting excitedly with him. Draco glared, wondering what the hell they were so happy about. Deciding to wait before striking, Draco fell to the back of the Slytherins and made to pay some attention today. , as usual, stuttered a bit as he tried to get the class' attention.  
  
"Today we are study'in Phoenix's since we can' go out to finish up our lesson on dragons. This Phoenix here 's Fawkes and belongs to Professor Dumbledore. Gather 'round, 'e won' bite yeh."  
  
For the next hour, Draco went to sit with the Slytherins and they discussed different ways of torturing Gryffindors. Draco listened half- heartedly, thankful that they didn't have anything for him to contribute. It had taken a few years, but now everyone in Slytherin fully respected him and no one ordered him around. He figured that after seven years of targeting Harry Potter, the rest of the Slytherins had finally decided to just let Draco take care of him.  
  
The end of class was fast approaching and the perfect opportunity to execute his plan was standing a few feet to his right. Draco watched stealthily as Hermione stroked Fawke's feathers, her hair swaying slightly with the action. Her hair was no longer as frizzy as it had been, but it was still large and a bit bushy. Draco smirked, gripping his wand tightly and waiting until Harry and Ron both looked away from him. Draco smirked, raising his wand and muttering 'Incendio Circametsia'. A great leaping flame plumed from her hair, igniting it quite nicely. Draco laughed out loud, watching as a group of Gryffindors screamed and began trying to beat the flame out of her hair. Their beating did no good; Draco had cast a flame spell that never expired until the hair was properly burned. Around a minute later, Hermione recognized the spell, told everyone to get away from her, and sat down to let it burn out. When it finally expired, Hermione's hair was completely gone and black soot marks covered her head. The Slytherins roared in appreciative laughter, pointing at Hermione's head. Hermione let out a wail of embarrassment and fled the classroom. Even the side of Draco that was internally worrisome was sated; Hermione would be able to find the counter spell with relative ease. What did worry him at the time was a well-aimed fist approaching his face.  
  
Draco tried to move, but the blow caught him in the side of the head. He looked up to see who had done it, and realized that it was Harry. He smiled through his pain (though everyone thought it was a psychotic grin) and landed a blow to Harry's stomach. Harry grunted in pain before deciding to charge Draco. Caught of guard, Draco fell backwards and landed with Harry sprawled on top of him. Momentarily dazed, Draco leaned his head back, enjoying the brief sensation of Harry's body on his before valiantly trying to throw Harry off of him. But unlike Draco's well- rehearsed fight plans, Harry refused to be thrown off and ferociously fought back, unwittingly creating friction between them. Draco gasped quietly, his back arching off the floor. He sincerely hoped that he appeared to be fighting back better than he was actually trying. He then realized that he was getting off in front of a room full of angry Gryffindors and judging Slytherins. With this in mind, Draco marshaled his arms into action, attempting to brutally shove Harry off. Harry caught on to this and, with a fluid poise that left Draco slightly breathless, seized Draco's wrists and slammed them to the ground. Draco winced in pain, his eyes centered on Harry's flushed face. Draco didn't hear the first few words as he was too busy staring at Harry's sultry face and reveling in the feeling of Harry's burning body pressing insistently against his own. Then his mind caught up to what Harry was saying.  
  
".nothing but a complete prat! Why don't you run and tell your daddy how ickle Harry Potter beat the living daylights out of you, hm?" Harry seethed, moving his grip to Draco's upper arms, proceeding to lift and slam Draco to the ground. Draco winced, his head roughly meeting the hard floor. "Don't you ever, and I mean ever do that again!" With those final words, Harry clambered off of him and stalked from the room, closely followed by a smug Weasley. Someone held out a hand for him, but Draco shoved it irritably away, standing to his feet and leaving the room in a hurry. No one followed him, assuming that he was incredibly angry.  
  
But then one day he heard of a grand Masquerade Ball and he dreamed of going with his one true love.  
  
Draco rounded a few corners, making sure that no one was trying to talk to him. He then headed toward the Slytherin common room, hoping that everyone thought he was just incredibly angry. He covered himself with his robes, trying to control his emotions. He had never been this physically close to Harry. He hurt where Harry had hit him, burned where Harry had touched him. His emotions were something else entirely. He felt incredibly pleased, knowing that he would be fantasizing about this moment for months to come. He also felt utterly dreadful, knowing he had breached a boundary that he had tried so hard to maintain. Completely disoriented and irritable, Draco hoped no one talked to him. His hopes fell, however, as he reached the entrance hall and saw to his annoyance that the path to the dungeons was blocked with people hovering around the notice board.  
  
Pulling his robes tightly around him, Draco walked forward, uninterested in anything at the moment. Unfortunately, Pansy had sought him out and was hurrying forward to meet him. She slowed as she came close, something flickering in her eyes.  
  
"Are you all right, Draco darling?" Pansy asked worriedly.  
  
"I'm fine, why do you ask?" Draco asked brusquely, looking past her shoulder to see if there was a gap in the thick knot of people.  
  
"You're bundling yourself in your robes. You always do that when something is bothering you. It isn't Potter, is it?" Draco mentally smirked, wondering not for the first time what Pansy would say if he replied, 'Yes, Pansy, it is Harry Potter. I have this little obsession with him, actually. Yeah, I'm all hot and bothered because he was gyrating on top of me earlier.'  
  
"No, Pansy," he said instead.  
  
"Oh, well this news will make you cheer up." Pansy gestured toward the notice board, smiling broadly. "This year Dumbledore decided to hold a Masquerade Ball. First good idea the old goat's had in years, I say. We can go together, it will be lovely!" Through Pansy's babble, Draco spotted a break in the crowd and began walking. Used to Draco's behavior, Pansy followed closely, awaiting his answer. He didn't answer until they started walking down a stone staircase.  
  
"How is this going to cheer me up?"  
  
"Draco, you love parties!"  
  
"Yes, with alcohol and half-naked women at my disposal. I don't fancy watching a bunch of prats trying to dance." They had reached the entrance to the dormitories. "Nevermore," Draco called, the stone wall sliding to reveal the sparsely populated common room. Draco immediately sprawled himself on his favorite leather couch, making sure there was no room for Pansy to sit. Undaunted, Pansy instead sat on his legs.  
  
"With a brain like yours, I can't see why you never have any imagination. They are going to bewitch the masks when people come in. Only someone else can take it off for you. It's meant to be some kind of romantic thing."  
  
"Yes, I've been to a Masquerade Ball before. They started in the early Medieval Ages, in the courtrooms of noble wizards and kings. The idea behind them is to fall in love with a mysterious man or woman and then take off the mask of the person so that they may see the one they love. Unfortunately, my Aunt Claudia didn't find it very romantic when she unmasked her own son." Draco smirked, reveling in the memory. "Can't say she ever recovered."  
  
"I just adore your sense of romance, it makes my heart skip a beat," Pansy said, sarcasm dripping in each word.  
  
"I just see no point in going to such an affair."  
  
"We can go together!"  
  
"Won't that take away some of the mystery?"  
  
"Well, at least you don't have to look at any of the Gryffindor's faces."  
  
"True. Well, I'm off to my room to study." Draco stood up abruptly, causing Pansy to fall to the floor. She sat up quickly, her pug-like face contorted in anger.  
  
"Draco Malfoy! You complete ASSHOLE!" Her screams were cut off when he slammed his dormitory door. Carefully checking the entire room for any intruders or mid-day stragglers. Finding not a soul, he locked the door and fell upon his bed, his mood having skyrocketed. A Masquerade Ball, at Hogwarts! Draco had not lied about going to a Masquerade Ball; he had been nine and had sat in a chair during the entire affair, watching everyone dance elegantly and smile at each other in alluring ways. It had been shortly after he had figured out that he loved Harry Potter, so the romance of the night was lost to him. Draco allowed himself to fantasize for a few moments.  
  
He saw himself sitting alone on a bench outside (though the benches were sort of rickety and were always filled with people), reading a large book with a pair of thin reading glasses on (though he didn't own any). Harry would shyly walk up to him, looking at Draco through his silky bangs, a fine sheen of light haloing his face. He would then ask Draco to the ball, and Draco would say no at first. Then Harry would do several romantic things for the rest of the week, such as sending him chocolates during class with his owl Hedwig or perhaps slipping poems into his book during Potions. Draco would eventually give in and he would immediately go shopping and find the most amazing outfit Hogwarts had ever seen. The ball would begin with beautiful, euphoric music and everyone would be similarly dressed with grand dresses and robes, revolving on the dance floor. Harry would wait at the bottom of a grand staircase (which was in the entrance hall, not the Great Hall) for Draco, who would arrive fashionably late. Then Draco would appear at the top of the staircase and everyone will stop dancing to stare at how beautiful he looked, none more so avidly attentive than Harry himself. Draco would delicately walk down the stairs, meeting Harry at the bottom. Harry would adoringly kiss his hand before leading him to the dance floor. A romantic song would play and they would dance while everyone stopped and formed a circle around them. The lights would dim and Harry would slow his dancing, gazing longingly into Draco's eyes. Then Harry would lower his head and, holding Draco around the waist, bring their lips toge.  
  
"DRACO! OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!" Draco sat up with a start, groaning as Pansy banged on his door.  
  
He found a way to be with the one he loved while he took a bath.  
  
After getting rid of Pansy, Draco sullenly left to take a bath in the Prefects bathroom. He muttered the password ("bubble bath") and went through to the inside of the bathroom, looking to see if anyone else was in there. Finding no one, Draco sighed deeply and began to fill the bath. As he watched different colors of foam swirl together, Draco felt sorry for himself. He didn't know why he bothered fantasizing about the ball. Harry would never go with him, let alone ask him to go in the first place. Draco moaned piteously, wishing that things were different. Harry had hated him the moment he looked at him. He knew he was being unfair, knew that he had done nothing for the past seven years to endear himself to Harry, but none of that truly mattered. Harry hated Draco, and that was that. Besides, Draco thought miserably, even if we could ever be friends, we're both still boys. I know how he felt about that damn Ravenclaw seeker Chang. The only way I could go with him was if I was someone else, and a girl at that. Draco sighed heavily and let his gaze wander to the mermaid on the wall. She smiled broadly, a knowing smile on her face. Draco cocked his head, wondering what she was smiling at. He didn't find a single thing funny with his predicament. Then he noticed her tail pointing to a sign someone had taped to the wall. No doubt it was someone who worked for Fred and George Weasley. He had seen signs like these in all sorts of places with Permanent Sticking Charms on the back of them. But this notice was not grandiosely decorated like the others. This one was simple and straightforward:  
  
Need a potion and are not talented or have enough time to concoct it? Let  
us help. Owl to Edward, east apothecary, Hogsmead.  
  
Potions offered:  
  
Invisibility Potion  
Sleeping Drafts  
Veritaserum  
Polyjuice Potion  
  
Draco suddenly backpedaled, nearly falling into the bath. There was the solution to all of his problems! He would go to the Masquerade Ball with Harry, but Harry would never know it was Draco. He looked toward the mermaid, who was giggling happily. Draco smiled at her, nearly floating with joy. All he had to do was change himself into a girl.But where would he be able to get hair for that? Draco suddenly smiled, remembering that a cousin of his from Italy owed him a favor. Roxanne never asked questions about his behavior and he had always liked her more than the rest of his cousins. She also happened to be very beautiful, even to himself who never looked at anyone besides Harry.  
  
Yet just as great plans begin, problems arise and the gravity of a situation is more prominent. He wondered how he was going to get Harry to ask Roxanne to the ball. Beauty only went so far, and an unknown girl at Hogwarts would spark instant curiosity. He suddenly remembered that there was a Hogsmead weekend this week, one week before the ball. Just as suddenly he realized how little time there was. He would first have to talk to Roxanne. Then, once he arrived at Hogsmead, he would go to the potions shop and buy the Polyjuice Potion. He would have to buy some clothes at Hogsmead after he changed as well. Then he would have to find Harry and attempt to get him to invite Draco to the ball. It could work, and he might actually dance with Harry, and maybe (dare he dream it?) Harry might even kiss him. Draco remembered that he was supposed to be bathing and dived into the bath, going over his plan again and again. The thrill of being able to turn his dreams into reality gave Draco more energy than he had had for years. Seven, in fact. Lucky seven, Draco thought, leaving the bath a few minutes later and posing in front of a mirror. In less than a fortnight, he would be living a dream.  
  
So the boy went to town to speak with his love while posing as another.  
  
Getting Roxanne's hair was easy enough. He hadn't seen Roxanne since he was ten, but luckily time only improved her beauty. Her voice sounded like water in a rushing stream, so smooth and pleasant it was. Her hair was thick and reached her waist, black as onyx. Her face was strong and gentle at the same time, her structure exuding physical prominence. Eyes that were almost black regarded Draco with trepidation, but she willingly gave him a few long strands of hair, promising that if he used the hairs for anything against her, then she would break every bone in his body and tear each one out through each of his orifices. He smirked when she told him this, remembering exactly why she was a Malfoy.  
  
Two days later the weekend had arrived and he found himself walking beside Pansy on the path to Hogsmead. He breathed irregularly, praying that he would be able to pull it off. He ditched Pansy shortly after entering the village, claiming that he was going to hang out with Crabbe and Goyle. Instead, Draco maneuvered his way through the streets of Hogsmead, searching for a hidden apothecary. After asking a few people, someone finally was able to whisper the location of the apothecary.  
  
After buying the Polyjuice Potion, Draco looked down at the bottles and thought about the validity of the potion. Would it turn him into a toad on accident? But then again, if he turned into a toad, the perhaps he could get Harry to kiss him. Tat cinched it. Gingerly pulling out a couple of Roxy's hairs, Draco watched the liquid turn a light pink. He closed his eyes before drinking, and drained one bottle. His stomach began to twist in knots, a sickened feeling spreading through him. Then all of a sudden the sickness became a burning fire crawling over his skin, making him double over in pain. He fought to stay upright as he felt his skin melting and melding into something else. He watched in fascination as his skin bronzed, his fingernails grow longer from more elegant fingers, and the hairs on his arm darken and thin. The strange feeling left him and Draco knew that it was done.  
  
He spotted the clothes shop on the opposite side of the street and walked briskly toward it, his feet sliding around in shoes that were too big for him. He must have looked strange, a pretty girl wearing men's clothing. The strangeness ebbed as he entered the shop and turned to look into a mirror. Though he still wore his manly clothes, Roxanne still looked great in them. Only a Malfoy can look good in anything, Draco thought to himself. Wanting to see how wonderful she looked in normal clothes, Draco began searching some racks for a lovely dress or robes. He was suddenly grateful to his mother; Narcissa had always forced him to go clothes shopping with her, which gave him an immaculate eye for style. He soon found a lovely set of dress robes for the occasion. Draco surveyed himself in the mirror and knew that not one man could resist her looks. She was truly stunning. Draco paid for the dress as well as a matching purse, in which he put the extra bottle of potion. He left his clothes with a bemused shopkeeper.  
  
From the moment he stepped from the shop, every eye was turned upon him. It wasn't everyday someone like Roxanne walked the streets of Hogsmead. Despite the fact that she was drop dead gorgeous, her Italian ancestry shown through every fiber of her body. British women didn't stand a chance against her striking features and untouchable aura she had about herself. She was beautiful in a dangerous, alluring way. Just the sight of her made men weak and women resentful. He enjoyed himself immensely, knowing that none of them had a clue as to who "she" really was. His heartbeat picked up when he finally spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione head into the Leaky Cauldron. He had planned and practiced what he might say, but Draco wondered if he could pull this off, even in another person's body. He wouldn't find the answer staring through the tinted window of a pub. He mustered his dignity, opened the door, and entered the pub.  
  
Students filled the pub to the brim, keeping the barmaids busy with orders. Eyes flew up when they saw Draco enter, many of them nudging their friends and pointing straight at him. A little unnerved by their goggling, Draco moved forward, aware of dozens of eyes on him. After a few moments of embarrassed searching, Draco found Harry sitting with Ron and Hermione, laughing over some joke. It was truly now or never. He determinedly lifted his head and walked over to their table and stood right in front of it. It was Ron who noticed him first; his jaw nearly fell to the floor. Draco smirked. Stop drooling, I'm not here for you Weasley. He looked pointedly at Harry and he eventually looked up at Draco, a pleasantly surprised look on his face. Draco almost ran for the door right then, but bit his lip and plowed onward.  
  
"May I sit with you three?" Draco asked, pleased to hear that his voice sounded just like Roxanne's, her words trickling over the three friends. The three looked to each other, imploring one of them to speak. Eventually it was Hermione who did.  
  
"Sure, why not?" Draco smiled sweetly and sat down next to Harry. Ron was still staring at him in that slobbering way and it made Draco want to haul off and beat Weasley to death. Until Harry spoke, that is.  
  
"So what's your name?" Harry asked politely, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small grin. This simple question floored Draco. How could he not think up a name for himself? He decided to be as truthful as he could be under the circumstances.  
  
"Roxanne." Draco was glad his voice was feminine; if it had been his own voice, it would have been squeaking. Harry smiled and took a drink of his butterbeer. Draco thought for a moment, wondering what he should say now.  
  
"My name is Hermione. You have a lovely name, Roxanne." For the first time ever, he was glad Granger was there with him. He could have kissed her.  
  
"Thank you, Hermione. What is your name?" he asked Ron, wanting to save Harry for last. Ron seemed to come out of a daze and stammered for a moment.  
  
"Uh, it's uh, Ron," he finally got out, openly staring into Draco's eyes.  
  
"And what is your name?" he asked, finding it strange that he was asking Harry for his name when he knew it better than he knew his own name.  
  
Harry waited a bit hesitantly before replying. "Harry Potter."  
  
"Nice to meet you Harry." Draco reached out to shake Harry's hand, keeping his eyes nervously locked on their joined hands. When he looked up, Harry was now smiling happily. He wondered why when he realized that Harry had expected him to comment on his scar or stare at it like a spellbound idiot. Nope, not today, Harry. I've got more important parts of you that I need to stare at first.  
  
"Where are you from?" Harry asked, smirking over at Ron who was evidently paralyzed.  
  
"I'm from Italy."  
  
"Italy? What brings you to Hogsmead?" Hermione asked. Draco's gratitude for Granger diminished. What would an Italian girl be doing in Hogsmead? Draco hurriedly searched his brain, grasping for an answer.  
  
"I have family that lives around here. I come to visit, it is most pleasant." Seeing three inquiring looks, Draco felt that he had to elaborate. "Ah, I usually only visit during the summer, but my mother became sick, so we are staying here until she recovers." The looks around the table softened and Draco noticed that Harry's eyes were soft and caring. His eyes said quite plainly, I will fight off whatever is hurting you. Tell me, and I will protect you.  
  
"All of us go to Hogwarts," Hermione continued, her voice less brisk and more friendly.  
  
"I have seen Hogwarts from the village, but I have never been inside it. Never had a real reason to, really." Draco attempted to appear indifferent, but his insides were squirming. Would Harry take the hint and ask him?  
  
"It's a really great school," spoke Ron, coming out of his temporary paralysis. Draco's gripped the bottom of the table, angrily wondering why the Weasleys never bothered to use birth control.  
  
"Yes, it is a wonderful school. There's a great book about it, it is called Hogwarts: A History."  
  
"Oh yes, I've read most of that book. It is quite interesting, I especially loved the history of the founders, as well as the descriptions of the school itself," Draco replied, telling the honest truth and hoping that it didn't sound suspicious. Hermione grinned at this, nodding her head in earnest.  
  
"It is a lovely book. I'm always trying to get these two to read it, but they always have something more important to do." Harry beamed after she said this, obviously pleased that Hermione approved of Roxanne. Draco picked up on this, knowing that the way to Harry was through his friends, and now he had to win Ron's approval. From the way he kept dropping his napkin, Draco felt as if the task was redundant.  
  
"Are you a Weasley?" Draco asked outright, trying to keep his face free from the usual sneer that accompanied his name. Ron, startled at being addressed directly for a second time, nearly knocked his butterbeer to the floor in surprise.  
  
"Yes, yes I am," Ron acknowledged, now a little more wary. Draco smiled engagingly.  
  
"I have heard about your family. Mostly my grandmother talks about your family. She has told me how most of your family is the kindest, most noblest family around. Oh, not noble as in having a mansion or walking on galleons noble, but the kind of noble that people rarely are. Sincerely kind, that was how she put it." Ron flushed in pleasure, mumbling something that sounded like 'thank you'. Draco found that he had startled himself with this statement. It was meant to be an outright lie, but little pricks of truth were there. Draco finally turned back to Harry, the point of this entire meeting, and saw to his delight that Harry was practically glowing with affection for everyone. All that was left was for him to ask her. He was completely useless when it came to picking up hints. He had a feeling that Hermione knew that he should ask her; she kept eyeing Harry and seemed to be willing sense into his head like she did during tests. Draco bit his lip, deciding that he should do something dramatic. If it was Harry who was asking him instead of the other way, Draco would have only asked him if there was a danger of him leaving.  
  
"Well, I am afraid I chatted too long. I have to do a bit more shopping before I head home. It was nice meeting all of you," here he stared right at Harry, willing him to call her back. A look of disappointment flitted on his face, but he nodded.  
  
"Take care, Roxanne," Harry said, quickly ducking his head to drink his butterbeer. Hermione looked as defeated as Draco felt. Ron nodded too, unable to speak anymore. Draco got up from the table and left, trying hard not to break down. It had all been a waste. He might as well learn to face the fact that Harry would never love him, not even as someone else. It seemed as if he was destined to love alone, to love where it was not returned, and to love where he had no right to love. He walked into the busy street, ignoring the stares and appreciative looks. All he wanted was to hide himself until the potion wore off so he could return to his ordinary life. Perhaps he would have enough time to buy some chocolate frogs.  
  
"Roxanne!" Draco wheeled around, his mouth open in amazement as Harry jogged toward him. Harry had come back to ask him after all! Hermione must have called him an idiot and told him to ask me before someone else does, he thought happily, smiling. Harry walked straight up to him, unaware of several envious looks shot his way.  
  
"You forgot your purse," he said, thrusting it out to him. In addition to the many new feelings Draco was feeling toward Harry today, slapping him soundly had just made it to the list. Instead, he accepted the purse and began walking away again, heat flooding his face with embarrassment.  
  
"Wait, there's something else too," Harry added, touching Draco on the shoulder. Draco started, turning around to look at Harry, silently urging him to continue.  
  
"Well, ah, you see.there's this dance, a ball, actually.Masquerade Ball, in fact.would really appreciate it if you went with, well, me." Draco had always thought that when Harry asked him, it would be with an articulation and eloquence that made his heart swoon. Instead Harry had stumbled over his words, barely managing to get the message across. Somehow, Draco found this far more romantic than any practiced speech.  
  
Draco pretended to ponder this question. "When is it?" Harry breathed a small sigh of relief, nervousness leaving him. Harry Potter nervous?  
  
"Next weekend. That might be a bit too soon, I know."  
  
"No, too soon is if you said it was tonight. Of course I'll go. You are a wonderful person, Harry." Harry blushed, a shy smile forming on his face.  
  
"Where shall I meet you?" Harry asked abruptly. Yet another fallacy in Draco's brilliant plan of seduction. He thought fast.  
  
"At the front gates, I suppose. I'll see you then!" Draco rushed off before Harry could say another word. He looked back and saw that Harry was still looking. Harry caught his gaze and waved, grinning happily. Draco smiled back and left quickly.  
  
It was done. He was going to the Masquerade Ball with Harry Potter. It was almost perfect. Sure, there was still that small desire for Harry to know who he actually was, but he enjoyed the idea of having an evening with Harry when Harry knew none of his history and nothing came between them. It was as if he was starting his entire life over again. Still needing a dress, Draco swept back into the shop he was in before and asked for a tailor. As a measurer zoomed around him, Draco felt happier than he had ever felt before. He chose a dark red satin dress with a low neck. He elegantly swirled in it, pleased that the dress twirled easily. After telling the clerk that he wanted the dress, he walked around the store, staring at all the expensive clothes. He went to his favorite display, the foreign display. Here they showcased one of a kind outfits that cost more money than most small houses. He perused the wall with an aristocratic eye and saw in the window a magnificent costume, undoubtedly displayed because of the upcoming ball. It comprised of an expensive white silk shirt with a wide collar, a pair of tan leather pants, a pair of tall brown leather boots, and a robe made from fine brown leather that came with a fastening that was gold and connected with several chains. Draco was riveted by the ensemble, realizing that it was almost exactly what he had dreamed of wearing. If he had been able to go as himself, Draco would have worn this. But he sighed then, remembering that he was going as someone else. He attempted to go back to the counter, but his eyes kept straying to the display. Something unfathomable was drawing him toward the clothes. There was really no reason to buy them, but Draco looked at the clothes and suddenly wanted them. This is too good an ensemble to just leave behind anyway. So this was how he was seen carrying two heavy packages back to Hogwarts. The potion had worn off four hours after his meeting with Harry and he had to duck into the shop to wait for the change as well as convince the clerk that his cousin had left some of his clothes there. Pansy soon caught up with him.  
  
"Did you buy your clothes for the ball?" Pansy asked brightly, eyeing the packages. Draco smirked.  
  
"No, I will not be going, Pansy. These are just some things mother wanted me to buy for school."  
  
So he waited impatiently for that fateful day to arrive and when it did, he met his love in a beautiful gown.  
  
The next week was the longest week of his life. Contrary to treating Harry better, Draco found new and improved ways of tormenting Harry. He did, after all, have to throw off suspicion. He tormented the three in any ways he could and went out of his way to make their life miserable. He had almost received a Saturday detention when he had disrupted an arithmancy lesson by levitating Hermione's notes out of her reach for half the class. She had eventually hexed him, giving him a nasty case of boils. It was all worth it, in the end. No one suspected him, and by the time Friday ended, all of Gryffindor house was glaring at the Slytherin table in anger. Draco's housemates were ecstatic, hailing him as a god. But none of this mattered come Saturday evening.  
  
Draco told his housemates that his father was going to visit him that night and take him into Hogsmead. Lucius hardly ever did this, but no one questioned him. After shrinking the dress to doll size, Draco carefully placed the dress and the last bottle of potion into his pocket before leaving the dorm room. He noted that the doors to the Great Hall were tightly closed, not revealing a single thing until it began in an hour. Draco weaved his way through early arrivals and made his way out toward the gates. He quickly went past them and found a tree he could hide behind to change. He grasped the pre-made potion in his hand and drank it, more confident since he knew it wasn't that bad. Again the burning and sickening feeling of his skin taking a new shape and then he was Roxanne. He hurriedly pulled on his dress, taking great care in making sure everything was in place. He slipped on a pair of high heels, amazed at the prowess of Polyjuice potion. Draco himself had never even entertained the desire to wear high heels, but Roxy's feet fit perfectly into them and he didn't wobble. The only problem he now faced was remembering to walk gracefully and avoid things that might break a heel.  
  
Draco waited a half an hour before emerging from behind the tree and sweeping toward the gate. He waited patiently until he saw a figure walk purposefully toward him. Draco was relieved to see that Harry had not brought his friends. To his knowledge, Potter never seemed to go to the bathroom alone. It was dark outside, but Draco could guess at what Harry was wearing. He seemed to be wearing quite uncharacteristic shades of black. He was dressed impeccably in a pair of black slacks (ironed, no less), a white button-up shirt, a pair of polished dress shoes, and a black robe that hooked with a silver clasp. On top of all this, Harry's hair was almost tamed. He looked like every fantasy Draco had ever had. Well, not every one, Draco considered. For all of them, he'd have to wear nothing but a sexy smile and a copious amount of whipped cream.  
  
"Hello," Harry greeted shyly, coming to a halt in front of Draco. Struck dumb by Harry's presence, Draco didn't reply but merely smiled. "Lets go inside." Harry suggested, holding his arm out for Draco to take.  
  
When they reached the Great Hall, Draco was amazed by the ball. Crystal chandeliers, an orchestra, and small tables with golden cutlery gave the Great Hall a regal air. The enchanted ceiling showed a starry night sky. Everyone was dressed in truly debonair clothing and almost everyone there wore varying types of masks. Unlike previous school dances and festivities, all four houses were mixed together, talking, laughing and dancing. Draco remembered his mask and put on a scarlet eye mask. The charmed mask melded to his skin. Harry looked toward him and took the cue, placing a black and gold mask over his face. It covered half of his face and gave him the appearance of a dark, mysterious lover.  
  
"This is beautiful," Draco commented, gazing at the beautiful atmosphere. Harry smiled broadly, leading him to the middle of the floor.  
  
"It's usually not this nice," he replied, truthful to a fault.  
  
"It is still beautiful."  
  
"You fit well here, then," Harry said suddenly. Draco whipped around so fast that his black hair whirled completely around himself. Harry was almost as shocked as he was at this statement. Harry turned a bright shade of pink, but still continued to walk determinedly forward. "I would let you meet some more of my friends, but they probably have good masks on. Hermione worked on all of them, anyway."  
  
"This song is lovely," Draco exclaimed, turning to face Harry. Harry smiled and placed one hand on Draco's waist and one hand in Draco's hand. They began to dance a medium paced waltz. Draco marveled at how much Harry's dancing had improved. Of course, Harry could have trodden all over his toes and he still would have thought he was the best dancer in the world. In all truth, Harry had to look down at his feet more than once and often lost count. After a few minutes of dancing, Harry seemed to relax into a rhythm. Draco had slipped a couple of times when it came to who led who, forgetting that he was supposed to follow. His high heels held up and Draco was glad that he was graceful by nature. As the orchestra played a slower melody, Harry drew him close, his cheek dangerously close to Draco's.  
  
He gripped Draco's hand tighter. "Your ring is pretty. It keeps turning colors." Draco nearly fell to the floor in shock. How could he have forgotten to take off the ring? He might as well have forgotten to wear a dress or take the Polyjuice potion.  
  
"It tells about how one feels," Draco answered blindly, trying to tell the truth as much as he could. "It tells me how my mother is feeling, so I'll always know if she is all right." Harry nodded.  
  
"It's sort of a light pink right now. What does that mean?" Red for romance and white for happiness.  
  
"She is feeling wonderful." Draco breathed, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. He was too paranoid. A couple of hours flew by. Draco had heard the saying that time flies when you're having fun, but this was ridiculous. They danced most of the time, stopping only to get a drink or to chat a bit. Draco mostly let Harry talk, curiosity rendering him silent. Harry was unaccountably shy, but would always say what he thought, no matter how incriminating it was. About three hours into the night, Ron had been unmasked by Pansy Parkinson, to his supreme horror. He laughed with Harry as Ron told his horrible tale and realized that Ron really wasn't such a humongous git after all. In fact, Draco found him to be quite funny and warm. He was still a bit annoying at times, but his integrity always shrouded his bad qualities when it came down to it. Draco felt oddly at ease, a feeling in which he had never had around Harry before. It was always an extreme when it came to Harry. He was either completely angry with him or completely smitten with him. Tonight he was merely comfortable in his presence. As another beautiful melody was played, Draco wondered if this was what heaven was like. If it was, then he swore upon his love for Harry that he would never do a single thing wrong again. Just as this peaceful thought infiltrated his mind, Harry started to do something he hadn't done before. He was leaning in toward Draco's lips, so close now that Draco could count the number of eyelashes he had. Just one more inch and Harry's mouth would be on his.No, on Roxanne's. Roxanne's lips, not his. Draco threw his head back, a frantic look in his eyes. Harry drew back also, confusion etched all over his face. Harry then looked at Draco's eyes, squinted as if he was seeing something strange.  
  
Then everything fell apart.  
  
"Your eyes.Aren't they dark brown?" The world turned over then. Draco looked into Harry's eyes fearfully. I'm turning back. Draco tore himself away from Harry and sprinted toward the doors. Everyone stopped to watch this spectacle. Air roared in his ears as he raced from the Great Hall, pursued closely by Harry. Draco had to slow going down the stairs leading from the hall so he wouldn't trip and fall but then bolted down the lawn at break neck speed, disappearing past the gates and finally diving into his hiding spot. He heard Harry call "Roxanne! Roxanne! I'm really sorry!", but the words were lost as Draco watched his nails shorten, his hair recede to its normal length, and his shoes becoming too tight to wear. A minute later, Draco was himself again, his head buried in his arms.  
  
He began to shake all over in great shuddering heaves. He still wore his now ill-fitting dress and tight high heels. This whole night had been a terrible idea. Had he known it would be this disastrous, he never would have even entertained the thought of attempting such a farfetched plan. In the space of a few minutes he had gone from the belle of the ball to the transvestite behind the tree.  
  
As he reviewed the night, he began to notice one thing that he had never took into consideration. He had crossed a boundary from which there was no return. He was thankful that he had the presence of mind to not kiss Harry. Kissing Harry would have shattered that distance he had always tried to maintain and his sanity would be in dire jeopardy. It was much easier to face objects that came from Harry than to face Harry himself, to feel love emanate from him and not be able to reciprocate. Ashamed and mortified, Draco picked up his carefully folded clothes. He moodily pulled the high heels off, chucking them roughly against the tree. He then shimmied out of the dress and pulled his wand from inside his robe pocket, muttered 'Incendio' and the dress was instantly reduced to ashes. He looked at the fallen ashes and felt a morbid pleasure from looking at them. He had turned into a Cinderella. The pumpkin had changed and now he was back to rags again. Except there was no shoe left behind for Prince Charming to find. Not like the shoe would fit me, anyway. He felt truly sickened with himself. It had been a nice ball, in the end. He would have liked to have gone as himself, free from worry and judgment. But was it necessarily too late to go, he wondered. He suddenly remembered himself in the robe shop, buying that expensive outfit for no reason whatsoever. Surely he hadn't really considered wearing them.But what made him buy them when he knew he would never wear them? He must have known. It must be fate. Or complete stupidity. Stupid to actually go back in there and try again. What did he think, he should go in there and demand Harry dance with him as himself? Harry would either be completely disgusted or laugh in his face. If he saw his face at all.  
  
He went back to the ball with a new mask.  
  
"Look, mate, maybe something happened with her mum and she had to leave quickly."  
  
"Ron, she left when I asked if her eyes were dark brown. I guess it is some kind of Italian insult or something."  
  
"Harry, I am so sorry about all of this. I wish there was some way we could help."  
  
"Hermione, it's all right. I promise. It's not like we were married or anything. You know, I don't even know her last name."  
  
"Well, they're playing a really catchy song now. Perhaps Pavarti will dance with you again?"  
  
"Hermione, no one is that dense to dance with me again. Perhaps it was my dancing that did it."  
  
"Ah, that's rubbish. Look, Luna's free." Ron pointed at Luna who was currently engaged in staring at the ceiling.  
  
"Yes, go dance with her Harry.Oh, the song has changed again. It is really pretty."  
  
"Luna doesn't like to dance. Listen, I know you two want to dance, so just dance and let me be. It's just a romantic song and all. I'll drink punch, I like punch."  
  
"I don't know." Hermione said contritely.  
  
"Go on, I'll be fine." Ron and Hermione hesitantly left to dance to the song. Harry leaned against the drink table, taking in his surroundings. Almost everyone had their masks off and it seemed like everyone was dancing. Even Luna was dancing now, twirling by him with someone still in their mask. Harry sighed and stared up at the enchanted ceiling. The stars were unnaturally bright tonight. Every star was to be seen glittering in the blackened sky. Harry lowered his eyesight until they fell on a pair of silver eyes from across the room that were not that different than the stars above.  
  
And won his love's heart.  
  
A lone figure stood at the threshold to the Great Hall, a gold mask obscuring almost all of his face. It wasn't just Harry who noticed the person's appearance and the abrupt change of atmosphere. Many people turned their heads to stare at this person, all transfixed right along with him. It was clear that no one knew who he was. He wore clothes that were exotic and like nothing anyone had ever seen. The person held the room's attention better than Professor Snape teaching class in a pink tutu.. People began whispering excitedly, undoubtedly wondering who this undoubtedly handsome stranger was and what lucky girl he was searching for. Harry was more than attentive; he was captivated. Almost against his will, he found himself walking toward this person. Everyone had abandoned their dancing to stare at the entrance. Harry's footsteps echoed throughout the room. When at last he reached this mysterious man, he looked unblinkingly into his eyes, searching for something. The person held their breath, apparently flustered at Harry's penetrating gaze. Harry was going to ask him who he was. He asked something entirely different.  
  
"Would you like to dance?" A collective gasp ricocheted around the room. The stranger nodded once and Harry's only surprise was his lack of surprise. He held out his arm and the man took it as Harry led him to the center of the floor. He put his hands on Harry's waist and Harry placed his hands on his shoulders. The music changed and a romantic dance song played. Everyone crowed around the couple, giving them a wide berth so they could dance without interference. Harry was sure that they thought it was strange for two men to dance with each other. But caring didn't seem to be something he could do at this moment. Harry was dancing perfectly in tune with the striking man , still staring into his haunting eyes. Harry saw Ron and Hermione standing a few feet away, Ron looking slightly sickened and impressed at the same time while Hermione smiled in her smug "I knew it!" sort of way. Their lack of completely revulsion spurred Harry to dance faster, to spin his partner in a circle and dip and do all sorts of moves that he would have thought to be dangerous to anyone standing within a mile of his clumsy steps. But every move was pulled off with splendor and the stranger stared unashamedly into Harry's eyes, almost daring him to do something. Indeed, during one particularly evocative part of the music, Harry pulled this man a little closer, their noses just a few inches away. Harry lifted up a hand to caress his partner's cheek, but instead of caressing his cheek, Harry went for his mask. The man's eyes grew fearful and Harry was reminded of Roxanne's expression before she ran off. Those eyes looked so familiar. Just as suddenly as it had all started, so it ended. The man twisted around to run from him. Harry, anticipating this desperate action, seized the man's hand. Everyone stared in fascination at the scene, watching as the stranger yanked his hand away roughly, running as fast as he could from the hall. Everyone who had watched their dance began looking away to whisper excitedly with what was to be the hottest gossip Hogwarts had ever known. Harry ignored the looks everyone gave him and instead, opened up a closed fist and saw a golden ring with a yellow center.  
  
The ball ended and the boy tried to go back to the way it was before, but fate had other plans.  
  
Harry did not go to breakfast the next morning. Instead, he stayed in his bedroom and twirled the ring idly between his fingers. He had tried it on himself and noticed that it fit quite well. He was currently waiting for Ron to return with Hermione. Harry had cornered Hermione the night before and told her about the ring, imploring her to help. Harry hoped that Hermione knew a way in which he could find the person who owned the ring. Of course, once he did find out who this person was, he still had to find out where they lived and such. Harry sighed, feeling disappointed that he didn't even know if it was really a man or a woman. He wondered if he would mind if it was a man, and decided that if this man could make him feel like that, then he didn't particularly care. All he wanted was to know who it was. He heard some footsteps and hid his hand quickly, strangely secretive about this ring. It turned out to be Hermione laden with a couple of large books. Harry smiled widely, making room for her; a Hermione with books when you were in need of information is better than a Firebolt when you needed to fly.  
  
"So, can you tell me who owns this ring?" Harry asked eagerly, pulling the ring from his finger. Hermione smiled in her indulging way and took the ring. She examined it for a little bit and then gasped. Harry felt his heart leap to his throat.  
  
"What? Is it dangerous?"  
  
"Oh, no Harry. It's just that these are extremely rare and expensive. This is really interesting." Hermione picked up one of the volumes she brought with her and began leafing through it in feverish haste. Harry sat back, allowing her a few minutes of privacy. He relaxed when she looked triumphant and closed the book with resolve.  
  
"Harry, watch this," Hermione ordered, holding her hand to his face. Harry watched as she took the ring and put it on her left ring finger. To his surprise, the ring zoomed from her hand and fell to the bed.  
  
"Why won't it stay on?" He asked, picking it up and trying it on himself again for good measure. "Is it just you or what?"  
  
"No, it isn't just me. It's me and everyone else besides just one other person."  
  
Harry looked even more perplexed. "You might as well start explaining. I never know anything."  
  
"You see, this ring itself is just an ordinary ring." Hermione paused, looking at the ring and then at Harry. "Is this confusing you?"  
  
"I just told you it was."  
  
"Yes, but is this situation confusing to you, perhaps?"  
  
Harry considered. "Well, I suppose it is."  
  
"There, proves my point." Hermione plucked the ring from his finger and presented its face to him. "This ring was made with a Mood Enlightening potion. Someone has been using this ring to see how you are feeling whenever want."  
  
"How I feel? Who would want to do that?"  
  
"Someone who just wants to know, that's all."  
  
"Well, it sounds a bit peaky to me. How does that explain it not staying on you?"  
  
"It's enchanted where only you and the maker can wear it."  
  
"Well, is there some way you can find out who it is, then?"  
  
"It's protected where I can't see who made it, but it won't be as hard as you think to find them."  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"It's made like a Polyjuice potion. You have to have some part of them to make it. They had to have been able to get something off of you at some point. With the number of times you've been in the hospitable wing, anyone in the school could have plucked a hair out of your head."  
  
"So it's someone in school?"  
  
"I didn't say that, but it is very likely. Not many people have gotten close to you outside of school. Besides, I doubt the person Polyjuiced themselves into two separate people. I'm fairly sure that Roxanne was the fake and the mystery guy was the real person."  
  
Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well, all we have to do is ask to see if anyone knows who owns this ring."  
  
"I doubt they let it show. They probably Disillusioned it, I can't imagine anyone knowing how to make something vanish without a potion at school. Only a few wizards can make things invisible."  
  
"Dumbledore can, but I don't suppose anyone is up to par with his magical abilities and if it was him, then I quit." Hermione laughed.  
  
"I can bet you anything that the Polyjuice Potion interfered with the spell on the ring. They do, after all, have the same innate magic surrounding them. This is a very interesting occurrence. I wonder if it was the properties that took off the Disillusionment Charm or the change itself. Do Disillusionment and Transfiguring coincide with each other?"  
  
"Hermione, you are too smart for your own good, you know that right?" Hermione smiled warmly, picking up her books.  
  
"Speaking of smarts, you will end up failing your N.E.W.T.'s if you don't gather those ingredients like Professor Snape told you to."  
  
"I have a few more important things on my mind at the moment, thank you."  
  
"Well, happy hunting Harry." Hermione left, waving over her shoulder. Harry waved back listlessly, now staring at the ring in renewed hope. All he had to do was get everyone to try on the ring. Everyone. He fell backwards on the bed, groaning in frustration.  
  
His love searched the entire castle for the one who could wear the ring.  
  
Harry was glad it was raining heavily today. Everyone was stuck in their dormitories or the library. He began his quest in Gryffindor, systematically putting the rings on everyone's fingers. As the ring stubbornly refused to stay on anyone's finger besides his own, Harry's spirits lessoned. He saw both hopeful and fearful faces try on the ring. Lavender and Pavarti took exuberant care in trying it on, each letting out a squeal of disappointment as it came off. Neville looked horrified at the prospect of the ring fitting him but was determined and almost fainted with relief when it bounced off. Harry felt similar. He laughed when Ron tried it on excitedly and pretended to cry in disappointment when it flew off. Seamus Finnigan took Ron's role one step further and fell into Dean's arms, shouting "I'm not the one for Harry Potter! Oh, what will become of me?" It took over an hour to get everyone to try on the ring and none of them were "the one".  
  
After lunch, Harry persuaded Hermione to ask permission into the Ravenclaw common room. Having a friend who was Head Girl was finally paying off. Many were skeptical about the whole thing, but they eventually let him in after some careful bribing. The closest he came to discovering anything was when Terry Boot threw a small fit at having to try on the ring and most were convinced it was him. When the ring flew off, Terry had picked up the discarded ring and threw it at a friend who had drug him forward to try it on. Harry almost believed it was Luna Lovegood, but the ring flew off like usual and she had shrugged and informed him that it was a nargle playing tricks on him. Padma Patil and a group of Ravenclaw girls had heard of the news beforehand and had actually dressed up for the occasion. He finally left the Ravenclaws and tiredly waited for Hermione to get permission from the Hufflepuffs.  
  
The Hufflepuffs proved decidedly more obedient, though Zacharius Smith almost threw a fit like Terry's. A shy Hufflepuff girl whose name Harry couldn't recall burst into real tears when the ring tore itself away, flinging herself on her group of girl friends. Harry was startled when Ernie Macmillan looked slightly disappointed when the ring expelled from his hand. Time after time the ring refused to stay, lowering Harry's hopes more and more. When they left the Hufflepuff common room, it was time for dinner.  
  
Only one house remained and Harry flat out refused to enter their common room. He instead decided to let everyone try it on during dinner. It was one of the most exciting meals anyone had ever attended. People crowded around Harry and watched with great enthusiasm as Harry moved toward the Slytherin table and demanded that everyone try the ring on. After one sour-faced Slytherin girl had laughed after it popped off, it became customary for others to do so, each laugh more derisive than the last. Ron had to hold Harry bodily upright when it came to Crabbe and Goyle and Harry felt like crying tears of relief when the ring immediately ejected from their grubby fingers. Millicent Bulstrode had tried to levitate the ring out of the Gryffindors reach, but Harry swiftly cast an accio charm and retrieved the ring. Pansy Parkinson was one of the last to try it on.  
  
"Why would I want to try that bloody thing on?"  
  
"Just do it, Parkinson. Unless you have something to hide from everyone?" Ron goaded, causing others to nod in agreement. Pansy scowled, angrily forcing the ring on her finger and smirking when it shot off.  
  
Harry felt utterly defeated. He slumped into his seat at the Gryffindor table, eating sullenly as Ron and a group of his friends took it upon themselves to find stragglers and have them try it on.  
  
But no one could wear it besides the boy.  
  
Draco had listened to the news of last night from Pansy as soon as he had woken up. It was extremely difficult to listen to her account of the proceedings, especially when she expected him to ridicule Harry the first time he saw him. Draco decided that he wasn't leaving his common room today. Tomorrow was bad enough, having to see Harry all day long. He wished he at least had a week to recuperate, but life went on, whether he wanted it to or not. He knew that things would go back to the way they were and he would hate Harry on the outside with even more ferocity than before, simply because he loved him that much more.  
  
Draco was also extremely worried. He had lost his ring sometime during the night. He knew that if anyone saw it, then they would just think it was some color changing jewelry, but Draco felt naked without it. He had no way in which to see how Harry felt and he was at a loss. He hoped it hadn't fallen into the wrong hands or anything.  
  
Draco made his way into the Great Hall after all the Slytherins had tried on the ring, unaware of anything strange occurring. Most everyone had begun eating again, the excitement having faded drastically. It was the first time he had ventured out of his room all day and he had to walk quickly to avoid looking at the Gryffindor table. He halted mid-stride, however, when he noticed Ron and a bunch of Gryffindor idiots doing something to a younger Slytherin girl. Draco smirked, unwisely deciding that now was a perfect time to take out his frustration on someone else. He strode over to the group, oblivious of what they were doing.  
  
"Trying to force some helpless girl into dating you, Weasley? I'm afraid that, even though she is younger than you, she is Slytherin and is therefore above you. May I suggest a Hufflepuff? They're desperate enough to take anything you give them." Ron turned to Malfoy, an angry look on his face. But instead of retaliating, Ron smiled in a fiendish way and held up a ring that Draco recognized with a pang of terrible recognition. How had Weasley come into the possession of his ring? Draco attempted to wipe surprise and concern off his face and merely looked disdainful.  
  
"Proud that you got something worth more than your existence? Or are you just proposing to me? Did you even listen to what I just said about you, you great ugly git?"  
  
"Why don't you try on this ring, Malfoy?" Several heads raised from their plates, engaged in the scene before them. Draco shifted a bit, attempting to look at the Gryffindor table. Harry was paying attention now, a slightly nauseous look on his face. Draco narrowed his eyes and slapped Ron's hand, sending the ring clattering to the floor.  
  
"I don't have time for your idiot games, Weasley." With that done, Draco turned and began walking back out of the hall. He knew he should have stayed in the common room. Unbeknownst to Draco, Ron had pulled out his wand and had muttered, "Wingardium Leviosa". The ring raced after Draco and everyone watched and giggled, cheering the airborne ring on. Ron expertly flicked his wand and the ring slid onto Draco's finger. Draco stopped, wondering what was on his hand. He turned around, intending to throw the ring into Ron's eye, but was paralyzed by the knowledge that the ring stayed on. Everyone else had noticed this and were now staring at him in shock, the room suddenly silent. People with their forks heading toward their mouth dropped their forks, their mouths still hanging open. Draco felt like a deer caught in bright headlights. He began to sweat profusely and all brain function ceased. His eyes caught Harry's and Harry knew, was remembering his eyes, was remembering everything. Harry then lowered his head, humiliated by the stares now directed towards him. Draco fled, thinking that he had done more running in the last couple of days than he had done his entire life.  
  
He fled from the castle when they knew what he had done, but someone followed him.  
  
He ran all the way out to the edge of the lake and followed the shoreline until he came upon a stretch of bare land that rose several feet above the surface. The rain had stalled and only a slight drizzle fell as he began to think. All of his feelings coalesced into one excruciating thought, Harry knows and he hates me. He repeated this line in his head, forcing the words to become reality. He had no time to dwell on this, however, as he heard the sound of muffled footsteps running through the grass. Draco swiveled around and saw that Harry was running toward him. What was more, Harry was alone. Draco might have took this as a good sign had it not been for the look of fury Harry had on his face. Harry came to a stop of few feet from Draco, breathing heavily and looking for all the world like a demon possessed innocent. Harry took it upon himself to begin speaking.  
  
"WHAT THE HELL WAS ALL THAT ABOUT?" He shouted, the force of the words making Draco wince. Harry paused to catch his breath, less waiting for an answer than waiting for his breath to return. When he did talk, Draco wished he was shouting again. "Why did you do that? You turned into a woman to go to the Masquerade Ball with me? How long have you been planning this, Malfoy? Did you do this to humiliate me, to make me look like a complete fool?"  
  
"No," Draco said staunchly, turning to walk away. Harry fisted his hand in his robes and pulled him back, surprising Draco with his strength.  
  
"Don't you walk away now! Why did you do it?" Draco had heard enough accusations and was too angry to think straight.  
  
"Well, you wouldn't have gone with me if I was myself, now would you?" Draco seethed, glaring daggers into Harry's head. Harry looked taken aback, but followed Draco even more resolutely as Draco attempted to walk away again. Seven years of wishing he would follow or want to talk to me and the one time I want him to bugger off he is right on my heels.  
  
"You're just trying to mess with my head, Malfoy."  
  
"My name is Draco." He said briskly, still walking away. Harry hurried ahead of him and effectively blocked his path.  
  
"Fine then, Draco," Harry said scathingly. "I know you are hiding something and that's all right. I'll find out what you are planning and beat you at your own game." Draco stared incredulously at Harry, wondering if Harry knew just how right he really was. Then something dawned on him.  
  
"You think I turned myself into a woman so that I could get information from you." It was not a question. Harry nodded once, glaring at him.  
  
Draco had enough. "Yes Potter, that is exactly it! I did it so that I could get information from you." Harry nodded in agreement, imploring Draco to continue with his guilty admission. "Yes, that is right. After the Polyjuice Potion ran out, I threw on some fancy clothes and hid my real face so that I could try it again." It was the truth, just not in the way Harry knew it to be. Harry crossed his arms, sizing Draco up.  
  
"Well, what were you trying to find out, Malfoy? What Quidditch strategies the Gryffindors are cooking up? Where the Order is located?"  
  
"No, I had a much more involved plan than that," Draco said with relish, grinning maliciously.  
  
"Are you going to tell me what it was or are we going to stand here and stare at each other all day? No, never mind, don't tell me. I never said anything worthwhile to you and now you've gone and embarrassed me in front of the entire school."  
  
"Embarrassed you? I'm the one who will be forever known as a transvestite with a perverted obsession for you!"  
  
"No more than you deserve! You should have known that I wouldn't tell you a single thing you need to know." Draco grinned sadly, catching Harry off guard and causing his sanctimonious grin to fall.  
  
"You're exactly right, Potter. I did believe I wouldn't get caught. I never should have believed that I could get anything.real out of you."  
  
"Of course you didn't, I never told you a single thing."  
  
"Exactly," Draco said malevolently, the words jolting through Harry like a bolt of electricity burning skin. "You didn't tell me anything. I did it so that you could feel something for me, you complete idiot! Why the hell do you think I wore a ring that told me what you were feeling for the past seven years? Don't you think that if I was doing this out of a more evil motive that I would have made the ring into a tracking spell or something spell to control you or cause you to tell the truth?" Draco was shouting now, bearing down on Harry who unconsciously leaned back from him like a fragile flower in the face of a violent thunderstorm.  
  
"I wanted to know what you were feeling, what you were like. I wanted to get close to something that wouldn't have me in the first place. I did what I did last night because I was desperate. Desperate for something, anything. I wanted to see the person behind all the empty feelings I saw. I wanted to know what made you happy, sad, or angry." Draco faltered here. Harry looked positively green and Draco was slightly pleased that he was uncomfortable.  
  
"I wanted to have you look at me and know that everything you were feeling was just for me. Now I realize that everything that happened last night was nothing. It hurts, god it hurts." Draco knew he had gone too far, but seven years of unrequited love, the pain of holding all of it in, and the even more painful mask of hatred he wore constantly was all crumbling at Harry's feet. It was neither pride nor duty that had him hide his feelings all this time. It was the pure and simple fear of discovery, the same fear that paralyzed him now, looking at Harry with a look no one knew Draco could give: Lost and vulnerable. He had been terrified of this, of having to rest his life on the actions of someone else. But he was no longer able to bear the weight of this secret. He continued after a moment's hesitation, speaking softer now in defeat.  
  
"I've loved you from the moment I saw you in Madam Malkin's robe shop. I tried to impress you, to make you think that I was worth something. I guess you knew even then that I was not worthy. Last night wasn't a total loss. I did learn something very important last night." He took one step closer, staring even more intently at a bewildered Harry; he looked as though Dumbledore was offering him a sultry lap dance.  
  
"I thought you never wanted to be my friend because of my attitude, which is admittedly a mistake of my own. Now I realize that you never wanted me in your life at all, regardless of attitudes or first impressions. I know the truth now, of what I've been afraid of for so long. I know the truth, and so do you, so go back to dinner and tell everyone what Malfoy said to you. I'd rather you completely ruin me instead of embarrassing me and not saying a word about what happened because you feel guilty or sympathetic or whatever self-righteous crap you Gryffindors do. You can at least act like a Slytherin, no will judge you, I'm sure. Hell, I'll even help you after I've gathered what's left of my pride. Just leave me alone." Draco turned his back to Harry. After a few seconds, Draco heard footsteps falling away from him.  
  
Draco walked right up to the edge of the incline, staring down at the glassy surface of the lake several feet below. It was now raining, large drops marring the clear surface of the lake. Just like my life, Draco thought. Except the storm will never clear. He pulled his robes around him, glad that he was cold and miserable on the outside. He instinctively rubbed the pad of his thumb against his ring finger. He brought his hand up to eye level, examining the back of the ring he had worn diligently for six years. He was tempted to look at its surface, to see how Harry had reacted to what had happened. I don't deserve to know, Draco thought somberly. He may forever be a part of me, but I won't have a part of him. He took it off and threw it as far as he could into the lake. As he looked at the spot where it landed, a sudden hard push from behind sent him toppling from the edge of the incline. He looked up as he fell, and his eyes locked with Harry's once more before water obscured his vision.  
  
The water swallowed him completely, filling his lungs with lake water. He floated underneath the surface, shocked that Harry had gone as far as to angrily push him into the lake. He instinctively started to swim to the top, but stopped suddenly, letting himself sink farther down. He felt lazy, detached, completely unwilling to save himself from drowning. Seconds ticked by and Draco stared up at the gray sky, watching the surface move in wind currents. He knew he was dying, could feel his lungs burn with need, could feel his body ache from weakness. Despite the physical drawbacks, he was oddly at peace, glad he didn't have to face this world anymore. After all, his secret was told; he was almost completely free. Just another couple of minutes and he'd be liberated, gone from this world that hated him, gone from a love that never wanted him. He smiled peacefully, leaning his head further back to embrace the welcome darkness.  
  
And here would it have ended, had a kiss been shared.  
  
He vaguely felt something pull insistently on the back of his head, and he wondered for a brief moment if it was the angel of death, here to take his soul away. He unwillingly opened his eyes to see and saw to his dreamy surprise that Harry was in front of him. So this is heaven, Draco thought, looking at Harry's murky face in front of him. Harry's hair floated above his head, swaying with the lake current. His glasses and robes were gone, leaving him barefaced and bare-chested with a worried expression in his eyes.  
  
Idiot, Draco thought merrily. Pushes me to my death and wonders if I'm all right. Typical Gryffindor. He was drunkenly amused by these events, looking back at Harry with an expression of giddiness. Amusement fled quickly, however, as Harry brought Draco's face to his and put his lips over Draco's. Draco tensed, wildly wondering if Harry had a sadistic streak in him. Did he have some kind of demented fantasy of kissing someone just before they died? But Harry wasn't so much kissing as he was panting into Draco's mouth. Then Draco felt his lungs hungrily expand and realized that he was breathing again. Draco made to push Harry away, but Harry wrapped his arms firmly around Draco's waist, opening his mouth further and closing his eyes. Draco wondered if he was hallucinating. He half expected to wake up any moment now, wide awake in his dorm room, Crabbe and Goyle stupidly squabbling over who would get to walk on Draco's right side today. But he didn't wake up. He was still under the lake with Harry Potter kissing him, bubbles floating around them.  
  
If Draco's mind wasn't so hazy, he would have been skeptical of the entire situation. He would have figured that Harry felt guilty for nearly killing him and was only doing this because there wasn't enough time to get him to the surface to breathe. But Draco was too confused and drained to focus on anything but Harry's mouth locked on his. His lips were so soft and supple against his own.Draco finally closed his own eyes, for once ignoring his cynicism and simply felt. It was, after all, what he had been dreaming about for the last seven years.  
  
After a few more moments, when Draco had begun breathing back into Harry's mouth, Harry detached himself and pulled insistently on Draco's robes. Draco realized that he was supposed to swim up and did swim, assisted by Harry pulling him along. When he reached the surface, he coughed up water from his lungs, treading water beneath him. He saw that Harry was only a couple of feet away from him with only his head sticking out of the water.  
  
"You can't swim?" Harry asked abruptly, suspicion lacing his voice.  
  
"I can swim, why?" A sound slap to the face told him why. Draco gaped at Harry, holding his injured cheek in one hand. Draco would have thought that after such an intense moment Harry would either be too shy to speak or would say something devastatingly romantic. Reality, Draco mused, really bites.  
  
"Don't you ever try to kill yourself again. That is an incredibly stupid way to go," Harry scolded, his voice high pitched. The injustice of this statement overpowered Draco's embarrassment of the situation.  
  
"You're the one who pushed me to my death! Why in the hell did you do that any way?"  
  
Harry hesitated before replying. "I wanted to see what it was like."  
  
"To what, drown someone?"  
  
"No. Just to see.well, I needed an excuse."  
  
"An excuse? I'm sure if you wanted to do me in, people would understand."  
  
"I needed an excuse to kiss you," he clarified. He said this openly, with only the slightest blush. Draco had always thought that Harry Potter was easy enough to understand. Now he wondered if a lifetime was a long enough time to fully understand him.  
  
"I don't think you need much of an excuse to kiss me," Draco said thoughtfully. "I think an easier way would have been for you to say, 'there's something on your mouth' and then snog away." Harry laughed, throwing his head back and exposing his temporary gills for a moment too long. He choked, a look of acute embarrassment on his face and lowered his neck back into the water, still laughing hard.  
  
Draco smiled mischievously. "Of course, if you need another excuse, I lost my ring somewhere in the lake. Can you help me find it?" Harry smiled warmly and dunked Draco back under the water. Draco felt his lungs tingle but it didn't concern him now. Harry lowered himself into the water in front of him, easily pulling Draco's face to his own and fusing his mouth onto Draco's. This time, however, Harry let his tongue reach out and caress Draco's, making Draco moan in approval. Harry hugged Draco close to him, one hand holding him in place while the other hand roamed, tracing a path over his spine and lower back. They soon fell into a distinct pattern of kissing; they would first kiss as people normally would, lips fused and tongues stroking together. Then they would break for air, mouths open as Harry breathed for Draco. Draco shuddered with pleasure, hardly believing that anything could be quite this wonderful. They went on like this for several minutes before Harry broke off, pointing urgently to his now bare neck. After reaching the surface, they swam back to land, their limbs tired from all the impromptu exercise they had undergone. Draco lay on his back for a while, still unsure of what to say. Worries began to fill his head. Does Harry love me or was he really just wanting to see what it was like? Is he through with me, now that he got what he wanted? If he did love me, could we ever get together? What about my father, my friends, his friends, our reputations? But Draco's mind became blissfully blank when Harry turned his head to look at him, his eyes shining with happiness. Draco smiled back, his first real smile for Harry. Harry then reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand.  
  
"Accio!" he called, pointing his wand at the lake. Draco's ring zoomed into Harry's outstretched hand. He presented the ring to Draco, sitting up in attentiveness.  
  
"Tell me what I'm feeling," he ordered pleasantly. Draco tentatively took the ring, gazing down at the glass surface. It had turned into two distinct colors, one he had never seen before and another that was never quite this vivid.  
  
Red and white, swirled together.  
  
They fell in love and visited the lake often thereafter, living happily ever after. 


End file.
